


Last of the White Feathers

by Wirewolf



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 1987), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-13 22:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12994050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wirewolf/pseuds/Wirewolf
Summary: A lone raptor finds a possible new pack, and maybe even a family.





	1. Meeting

He’d been hunting out in the Valley, the area near his cave was low on the small animals that he prefered. The animals in the Valley were not as sharp as the ones near his cave had learned to be, not looking out for the white feathers of the Hunter. He had caught a few small lizards but nothing that had really put a dent in the hole in his stomach. 

The scent of meat had lured him further into the Sharptooths territory than he had expected. The old sharp one had not been happy to catch him feasting on the others day old kill. The massive predator gave chase to the small hunter. The old one wouldn't give up, smashing fallen trees and knock boulders out of the way, til finally the white hunter was corned against a cliff face.

Crouching down, the juvenile hunter tried to make himself as small a target as possible as the Sharp tooth prepared to eat the trespasser. Behind the predators head was a flash of bright lights and a weird shaped boulder appeared in the sky. As quick as it appeared it fell, right on to the Shartptooths tail. The terrifying monster that had been about to eat him, ran off crying from the pain of its damaged tail. 

The Small white hunter dashed behind some nearby rocks, cautiously poking his head to look on as the the strange rock cracked open, light emitting from within. What emerged both puzzled and thrilled the Hunter. It had white feathers like him, and he hadn’t seen any other White Feathers since the storm, but it had no claws or teeth. It wouldn’t survive long, not without those. 

Small Hunter was bound to help the other after he had saved him, but really he probably would have anyway. He had alway been soft towards non-prey prey. It had been why his chickmates had liked playing with him the best and why his mother and father had left him in charge when the pack had gone to hunt. It was why he had a baby three-horn at his cave waiting for him, a fellow victim of the robbing flood.

Crouching low so that the other knew he wasn’t here to fight, Small Hunter came out from the rocks and approached the New One. Maybe he wouldn't be so alone anymore.


	2. Realization

Donald would be the first to admit that he was sometimes overly cautious. He would also like to point out those times when his caution had been well deserved. But he would also admit when he was wrong. Bubba was a time he had been wrong. 

Meeting the prehistoric chick had ticked all his alert buttons, the convenience and coincidence of it all. They arrived at the wrong time, away from where they had aimed and with no idea where their destination was. But here was this Dinosaur kid, ready and willing to help. He (it?) could even communicate a little, in a Me Tarzan You Jane manner. The boys and Webby had been ecstatic about their new friend, getting up close to the Juvenile Raptor, if his dinosaur phase as a child had anything to say about it. Scrooge was just happy that drawings in the dirt had been enough to decipher that the cave they needed just so happened to be the cave the Raptor lived in.

Donald has just know that it was a trap, a way for the Raptors no doubt hiding in the surrounding area to get a free and easy meal. The Kids and Scrooge couldn't see it but Donald just knew there was danger lurking around the corner. And he been right about that, sort of.

The first crack in his hard held beliefs that the Raptor was going to eat them came when the finally reached the cave after a nerve racking trek through the prehistoric forest. The raptor had called out, a almost barking sound that rung through the air. Donald had tensed, thinking it was a call of attack, looking out for other dinosaurs. And another dinosaur had come. But not a Raptor like he had expected. Not even another meat eater. A baby triceratops came trotting out of the cave, rushing up to the Raptor and nuzzling into the other white chest. 

The Raptor continued to behave like a child, each moment weaking Donalds belief that this was a vicious killing machine that was waiting to eat them all. The more time pass, the less Donald saw the Raptor and the more he saw Bubba. Who was obviously very underweight and whose feathers bore the lackluster finish of vitamin deficiencies. He had enough experience in dealing with a child's welfare to know what a healthy feathered chick looked like and Bubba was pretty far from the ideal.

Other things that Donald noticed was the complete lack of any mention of other raptors. Bubba made no sound about trying to get them to leave before some type of hunting party returning not to mention the rather unorthodox keeping of a baby trike as a pet. 

By the end of the night, Donald was convinced. This kid had no-one. And he wasn’t going to last much longer on his own. The good thing was that Bubba and the Kids had bonded, the Raptor proudly showing of the future diamond mine. Donald had a sneaking suspicion that all the kids wouldn't want to be seperated. Which left the one person who could bring any type of plans of temporal relocation for the raptor and his pet to a grinding holt. 

Scrooge.


	3. Attachment

To be honest, Scrooge hadn’t paid that much attention to the wee bairn that had lead them to his future diamond mine beyond keeping an eye out for any unwanted attention. A lifetime of dealing with swindlers and conniving minds had honed his nose to trickery, even trickery older than time itself.

He left Donald to worry about the unlikely scenario of an ambush and concentrated on following the feathered reptile in front of him. Glomgold thought he could finagle Scrooge McDuck out of what was contractually his, did he? 

At this point, he was more surprised that Ol’ Flinty hadn’t tried blowing him up as well as separating the island. The old shyster had been getting soft in his old age.

After meeting the boy’s pet (He would never admit to second guessing his instincts as the lad had barked and called into the cave) and marking the cave walls with his symbols, he was only mildly surprised when his Mother Hen of a nephew came up to him.

While considering his nephew’s rather out there request, Scrooge watched the young Raptor play with the children. With the observations that Donald had brought to his attention, Scrooge knew that while it would undoubtedly be a nightmare in the making he could not leave the wee bairn here. 

The lackluster feathers with obviously loosened quills were never a good sign. The almost unnoticeable delay in reactions, while nothing too bad in their own time, spelled a death sentence in this ruthless time.

The boy obviously wasn't getting enough food and from how he interacted with the children, was definitely not an adult. 

Here was a child with no parents, no family and no support system. Here was a child with no-one except his pet. Here was a child that was going to dying if Scrooge said No.

When thought of like that there was only ever going to be one answer to the question Donald had asked.

“Well, lad, It looks like ye got ah new nephew. Try not ta let him or that great beast tear the manor apart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scottish accent how are you written?

**Author's Note:**

> One day Raptor!Bubba popped into my head. It hasn't left.  
> Also this going to be more perspective recollections that a straight forward story. Write to your strengths and dialogue is not one of mine.
> 
> Unbetaed so please let me know about any mistakes


End file.
